


The House in Fata Sefirot

by crisiscore



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - The House in Fata Morgana, M/M, Multi, Other, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Specific Content Warnings in Chapter Notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:54:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24935605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crisiscore/pseuds/crisiscore
Summary: They awaken in a decrepit mansion, greeted only by a tall, blue-eyed Butler claiming that they are his Master.However, they have no recollection of their name, sense of self, or even being alive.The Butler invites them on a journey through the history of the mansion to bear witness to the tragedies that befell it, in hopes that one of them could spark remembrance.
Relationships: Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII)/Other(s), Zack Fair/Cloud Strife
Kudos: 7





	The House in Fata Sefirot

I saw my own corpse.

Horror filled me as I helplessly watched it being dragged off towards my crucifixion, and the despair it wrought crumbled my soul.

I lost everything.

As I surrendered myself into darkness, however . . . I heard a voice calling to me. 

_And so,_

_I vowed once more_

_That no matter how long it may take_

_how great the obstacles that stand in my way,_

_or what form you may assume,_

_I shall come back for you._

_That I must return_

_to that house._

_So I ask of you,_

_please wait_

_until this mutilated body_

_arrives there once more._

* * *

“. . . ter.”

They felt themself drifting in and out of consciousness like a ship at sea, their vision flickering as their heavy eyelids yet parted to make way for the darkness. Feeling returned to their fingertips, though no warmth came to them. When they finally came to, a fireplace sat in front of them, illuminated with a freshly stoked flame, though visibility was yet scarce. They felt themself rocking in a creaking rocking chair, and to their right, they could faintly make out the sound of rain pattering against the blackened windows. It was terribly cold . . .

“Master . . . ”

“Master . . . Wake up.”

Their first thought was to strain their eyes to search the room for the source of the voice calling to them, but they didn’t need to look far in the darkness.

“Master?”

Standing above them to their side was a tall man with long, jet black hair tied back and arranged into a neat braid; loose, spiky strands stood out atop his crown, giving him the impression of controlled chaos. While he appeared to be young, he had a heavy aura that aged him by at least a few hundred years, and in the dim light of the fireplace, they could see his tanned skin and the trace of a scar upon his cheek. His eyes were a deep blue – that enough they could see in the dark, with the faint glow of seafoam green . . . Looking down to inspect his form, they realized he was dressed in the fine uniform of a butler.

“Oh, good, you’re finally awake!” The Butler exclaimed, though the mirth of his voice did not match his expression of faint ennui. 

“. . . Where am I,” They croaked out.

“Good morning, Master. Are you still waking up? You seem drowsy. You have to gather yourself . . . though, it’s nice to hear your voice. I’ve been waiting so long for this moment, tending to this mansion all by myself, making sure it was ready for your return, whenever that was. When I saw you through the window, I could hardly keep it together . . . you’re finally here,” the Butler continued.

They made a face, troubled by the familiarity The Butler showed them.

“Would you like to start your day off with some tea? I’ve got some amazing spearmint leaves if you’d like, unless your tastes have changed since we last met. What would you like, Master?” He spoke so quickly and eagerly, as if he were running out of time. He paused to collect himself, seemingly having caught himself. “Ha . . . I’m sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself. You’ll have to excuse me; I’m just so happy to see you again.”

While The Butler’s words reflected elation at their apparent reunion and their awakening, there seemed to be a shadow cast over this joy they couldn’t put their finger on. They quickly came to realize that this shadow had not only been The Butler’s, but the mansion’s as well.

The patterns on the wall and the engravings of the black pillars of the fireplace were vaguely familiar . . .

. . . but it was overshadowed by the oppressive atmosphere of the mansion itself. They almost felt unwelcomed, despite the lukewarm greeting.

“ . . . I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are.” They finally admitted – their voice had somewhat returned to them, albeit weakly. “ . . . and I don’t know who I am.” Even the sound of their own voice was foreign to them.

“ . . . Oh, you don’t know who I am? And you don’t know yourself, either?” The Butler could hardly contain his muted exasperation.

His eyes widened, and he lifted his hand to his grasp his chin between his finger and his thumb, stroking it in thought.

“ . . . That’s a bit of a problem. If you can’t remember who you are, then who am going to serve?”

The Butler’s face paled . . .

It almost made them feel afraid until –

“You’re the master of this house,” The Butler broke the silent again, moments before it could become oppressively uncomfortable again. “It’s a bit of a dilemma that you can’t remember . . . and if you can’t remember, you’re just a stranger to me, aren’t you?”

“You said I returned. Where did I return from?” They asked.

“Right. You have returned, but I can’t tell you from where.”

His cryptic answer annoyed them – perhaps it registered on their face, since the Butler raised his voice to speak quickly again.

“How about this . . . I’m a servant of this mansion, and I’m familiar with everything that has happened here over the years. I can show you its history. Surely you’ll remember who you are through that, Master.”

 _That very well could be the key_ , they thought as they mulled over his proposition. After all, there was little comfort they had in being without a name and being addressed so familiarly without being able to return the sentiment. And without a single mirror in the room . . . they couldn’t even see what they looked like.

Though they remained indecisive on the matter, they nodded.

The Butler smiled.

“Let’s be off, then. Don’t worry . . . I’ll only ask you to not let go of my hand. If you hold it tight, you won’t have to worry about being swept up by the shadows of time. No matter what happens . . . don’t let go.” The Butler’s last words, spoken so softly, was nearly a whisper.

They reached out at the same time, and the Butler took their hand in his in a gentle grasp, though it was cold to the touch.

He led them out of the room and through the halls of the mansion.

It was just as dark through the mansion as it was inside that room ; no fire was present to light their path, and surely without the Butler’s guidance, they would have been lost as he promised they would be. They made no mistake in their judgment, either, as the mansion’s oppressive gloom spread from wall to wall. They passed an open window and they could see nothing outside, as if they were trapped in a lifeless void ; no chirp of birds or rustling grass, no sun or moon, nor color… like the mansion was cradled by death itself.

They followed The Butler through the mansion until they eventually came to a double door whose glass windows had been broken in. The white it had once been eroded to a gray, and just beyond it, they heard voices.

The Butler’s voice cut the silence.

“Even though the doors you see appear ruined, there was a beautiful apple orchard beyond them at one point. The owner at the time spent his time gathering all species of apples, and when spring came, there was a wonderful assortment of blossoms. By fall, there was always a grand feast for them when they ripened. Would you like to see this for yourself?”

They nodded.

“Alright. I hope it’s to your liking, Master.”

The Butler opened the doors.

A gust swept at them, in such great force that they lifted their arm to shield their eyes as they walked alongside the Butler, their other hand tightening its hold on the his.

Once the wind settled, the darkness of the mansion was no more.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome; if any of you are unfamiliar with the House in Fata Morgana, you're in for a ride. If you're not, welcome to THIS ride!


End file.
